


Business Associates

by moeexyz



Category: Sugar Pine 7 RPF
Genre: Business Associates to Lovers, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-Beating up a 14-year-old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moeexyz/pseuds/moeexyz
Summary: In an effort to avoid James and Cib, after beating up a not-14-year-old, Steven spends some time with the only person who hasn't disappointed him, lately: Jeremy.Fix-it for beating up a 14-year-old.





	Business Associates

**Author's Note:**

> You: Jeremy and Steven were so mean in beating up a 14-year-old.
> 
> Me, an intellectual: The bastard men should kiss!!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, for some reason this turned into an 11K fix-it plot for beating up a 14-year old, because apparently I have a lot of feelings.

 

 

“It’s like Cib doesn’t even care that this could have ruined the entire business. I mean, I know he’s a forgiving guy, but, Jesus, have a little self-respect,” Steven says.

He’s lying flat on the dirt. His elbows hurt from propping himself up, his jeans are dusty now, and frankly, he hates all of his friends. This is entirely their fault.

He takes a sip of his beer. Beside him, Jeremy hums in agreement, but also like he’s not really listening. 

At this very moment, Steven hates Jeremy the second most, because it’s his fault Steven’s spending his Tuesday morning lying in the dirt, trying to covertly drink beer while Jeremy spies on a guy. Granted, at this moment Jeremy is also the best person in Steven’s life, but that doesn’t absolve him of mistakes.

Steven was a little lost after they beat up the 14 year old who wasn’t really a 14 year old. He thinks that’s fair considering one of his best friends fucked him and the company Steven spent the good part of a year slaving over, and his other best friend doesn’t seem to be as offended by that as Steven thinks he should be. Normally, when he has a problem, he turns to James and Cib, but since he’s no longer talking to James, and Cib is insufficient, Steven’s options are running thin.

He had a brief moment of desperation where he considered going to Parker, but Parker’s been doing this whole sad thing lately like somebody murdered his dog, and Steven has a sneaking suspicion that if he hangs out with Parker, he’s going to have to talk about his feelings (yuck), and James ( _yuck,_ and also, dead to him), and worst of all Parker’s feelings (yuck, gross, so gross).

So, Steven is hiding behind a bush with Jeremy, while Jeremy spies on a guy. Reliable Jeremy. Consistent Jeremy. Jeremy who fucks his company over because he’s a terrible master of evil, and not because of whatever stupid reason James had. Jeremy who’s not going to leave Steve feeling off-kilter, and bad, and _alone._ Or at least not for any unexpected reasons.

Jeremy hasn’t told him who they’re spying on, and Steven hasn’t asked, content to just lay there ranting about James and Cib and getting drunk at 11am, because that’s a thing Jeremy does now. It’s weird, but it’s not terrible. In any case, it’s better than hanging out with Parker.

“Like, _this is bad for you too, idiot, how do you not get this?_ ” Steven continues.

“He wouldn’t. Cib’s not a businessman,” Jeremy replies, distractedly, pulling the binoculars he’s been using away from his face so he can lean back to swallow the beer near the bottom of his bottle.

In the back of his mind, Steven remembers Parker’s annoying voice being annoying about that, for some reason.

“So, no updates on Jenneth?” Steven asks. He’s trying for casually interested, but he isn’t sure if he hits the mark. Emotions are hard. Ugh.

Jeremy remains stoic. “I think it’s safe to say we will have no further business transactions involving Jenneth.”

“Good. That’s good, I guess,” Steve says, for lack of a better response.

Jeremy downs the end of his beer.

Steven is not worried about the amount of beer Jeremy has had, because Steven does not worry about other people’s health—unless it’s Cib. More importantly, he does not worry about Jeremy at all. Ever.

Jeremy does still have to drive him back home, though, so Steven says, “Hey, why don’t we get some food before we go?”

“Sure,” Jeremy says, packing the binoculars back into his unnecessarily extensive spy kit like the creep he is. 

 

-

  

One downside to using Jeremy to avoid all his other friends—and ex-friends—is that Jeremy lives with Parker and, therefore, Parker is _there_.

Steve is familiar enough with ignoring Parker that he doesn’t really mind, at first, but there’s only so many wounded looks he can take—as Parker silently watches him watching a movie with Jeremy—before his patience runs out completely. 

“Jesus Christ, Parker, _what?”_

“You guys have been hanging out a lot lately,” Parker whines at him.

“So?” Steven says.

Jeremy pauses the movie. He looks just as done with Parker as Steven feels, which is understandable. Parker is Parker, and Jeremy is a semi-reasonable human being.

“Steven’s filming a video,” Jeremy pointedly tells Parker, nodding to Steven’s camera on the coffee table, that Steven has used precisely once today.

“A day in the life of Jeremy,” Steven adds, because that is the excuse he gave when he showed up here four days ago looking for a reason to avoid Cib and James, that wasn’t _I specifically want to hang out with you, Jeremy_. Because he doesn’t. Beggars can’t be choosers.

“Oh,” Parker says, but it’s more of a pathetic sigh than anything else.

“Don’t you have a room?” Steven mutters to Jeremy.

Jeremy hesitates. “Sure, but I have to put away some…stuff.”

And then he leaves him alone with Parker, the traitor.

“So, have you talked to James yet?” Parker asks, conversationally. God damn it, this sucks.

Steve repeats it back to him in the same mocking accent he’d used on the kid from the bike store. Parker makes a face like he should have seen that one coming. He _should,_ and he should feel ashamed of himself.

Parker tries for something different.

“Hey, uh, I know you and Jeremy are…business associates, or whatever, and you probably don’t care, but can you, um, just…make sure he’s okay?”

“He’s fine,” Steve responds automatically, because _no, Parker, he cannot do that._

“Yeah, just—“

“It’s just a girl, Parker. He’ll get over it,” Steven says, a little annoyed that he has to tell Parker this _again._ So what if a girl hurt one of Jeremy’s three feelings? He’s probably a serial killer. Steven’s sure he’s had worse.

Parker nods, awkwardly.

“Yeah.” He gives Steven’s shoulder a pat that’s supposed to be comforting, but just makes Steven supremely uncomfortable. Adding insult to injury, Parker then says, “Hey, I’m sure James will come around too.”

Steven feels a flare of irritation. First of all, _Steven’s_ the one who’s supposed to do the coming around—not James. Secondly, Steven doesn’t give a flying fuck what James does anymore, and he’s about to explain this to Parker, in scathing, acerbic detail, but Jeremy finally comes back.

“The room is prepared,” He says, ominously, because he can’t not be a huge freak.

“Okay,” Parker sighs. He looks all sad and pathetic again. Ew. “I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

 _Hopefully not_ , Steve thinks, and follows Jeremy.

  

-

 

He’s fully prepared to forget everything Parker has ever said to him, but when they get downstairs Jeremy looks ready to crack into a bottle of wine that he pulled out of literally nowhere, and it’s not like Steven cares, but if he gets drunk then Steven’s going to have to ask Parker to drive him home. He’s had enough of Parker for, like, ever.

In an effort to distract Jeremy, Steven takes the bottle—ostensibly so he can take a sip for himself—and asks, “So what else do you do down here?”

 _Apart from murder_ , adds a cutting voice in his head.

Jeremy raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe Steven really wants to know. That’s fair, actually. Steven doesn’t.

“I’m just not really looking to…drink, uh, today,” Steven explains, lamely. For a second he’s worried Jeremy is going to kick him out and he’s going to be forced to spend time with Parker again, but to his relief Jeremy just shrugs.

“Well, what do you want to do?” He asks.

It throws Steven for a loop, because for a second his back-stabbing brain thinks of Cib and James, and what he might be doing if he were with them. _Ugh, shut up, who cares?_ He thinks, viciously.

“Well, we never finished that movie…” Steven trails off.

Jeremy stares at him three seconds too long. Steven hates when he does that, but never looks away when he does—knows that looking away means losing, and losing means Jeremy gets do drink, and Jeremy drinking means a drive home with Parker. So, he stares back—thinks smugly, _yeah, I can be a disarming asshole too_.

Jeremy finally shrugs. “Yeah, okay. Movie sounds good.”

Well, that’s that, then. Movie nights with Jeremy.

 

-

 

Cib’s been weird since the whole James thing. Steven doesn’t know what to do about that so he takes Cib to H&M to buy spy outfits for when they finally defeat Michael Jarvis. Not that they’re going to, since James fucked them, but whatever. Steven’s basically over it. James whom?

Cib, on the other hand, seems a little more reserved than usual. Another reminder of all the ways James ruined everything. Steven’s trying to be patient with him, but the thing is Cib isn’t even that upset about James. He’s upset with Steven for _“being a bad friend.”_

“It’s a little harsh, dude,” Cib says, rifling through a rack of plain looking shirts.

Steven feels defensive, but resists the urge to say something too biting back. Lands, instead, on an indifferent, “I’m being just the right amount of harsh.”

“I just think you should talk to him. It’s not like he meant to snoozle with the poodle, but it happens sometimes.” Cib shrugs, and gives Steven an innocent, pleading look. It’s so easy for him to just accept everyone’s faults, and that’s only fine when he’s doing it for Steven, because Steven’s never tried to _ruin his livelihood._ Also, he has no faults.

“Are you trying to say _screwed the pooch_?” Steven asks. He shakes his head, absently. No, not the point. “Michael Jarvis still wants to destroy us, so it’s not like what he meant matters.”

“He could help us with Michael Jarvis.”

“He’s the reason we have to stop Michael Jarvis in the first place!” Steven snaps. He feels the same quiet fury he’d felt when he found Michael Jarvis’ card in Jason’s wallet.

“Steve.” Cib’s voice is uncomfortably serious. Steven has to look away from him, because the sincerity in his eyes and a bit much and he’s _not_ going to budge on this. _James_ is the one who fucked up. Steven doesn’t have anything to feel bad about.

“He’s really sorry, man,” Cib says.

“Are you still talking to him?” Steven asks, and he tries not to make it sound like an accusation, but it still comes out like one.

Cib shrugs, helplessly. “He’s our best friend, dude.”

Steven would beg to fucking differ. But fine. Whatever. If Cib wants to be on James’ stupid side, he can be on James’ stupid side. Everybody can just be on James’ stupid, _wrong_ side. Steven will just have to find new best friends who will _listen_ to him, and be on _his_ side, for once.

 

-

 

Steven, genuinely, fully intended to hang out with Parker this time, but when Parker answers the door with a pitiful look on his face, and says, “You must be here for Jeremy,” Steven’s already thin patience pretty much wears out.

“Yup,” He says, and barges on through straight to Jeremy’s room.

Jeremy’s polishing his shovel when Steven walks in, because of course he is. He jumps a little, surprised to see Steven there.

“Oh, hey, Steven. Didn’t know you were coming over,” Jeremy says, almost like he’s apologizing for the shovel.

Steven really does not care about whatever shady shit Jeremy’s been up to—too wound up about Cib and James, and the fact that all his friends have set out to make his life as difficult as god damn possible.

“We’re getting drunk now,” Steven tells him, because misery and company and all that.

Jeremy doesn’t smile at him—Steven doubts Jeremy is capable of smiling—but he does a close approximation of one, and pulls out a bottle of whiskey from under his bed, so. Same difference.

 

-

 

“Michael Jarvis is still breathing down our necks, and none of us have any idea what to do about it, except probably James the—” Steven hesitates. His mind is fuzzy, but he can feel the word floating around in the back of his mind.

“Betrayer,” He finally spits out.

Jeremy nods, emphatically. He and Steven are sitting shoulder to shoulder on Jeremy’s bed, whiskey bottle lying half empty between them. Strangely, Steven is enjoying himself. He has gone on three different versions of this rant already, but Jeremy has not lost enthusiasm yet, so by god, he will keep talking.

“And _I’m_ the one left trying to fix everything, like always. They’re just like—”  Steven makes a silly, high-pitched voice “—oh, Steven’s the boss, he’ll do it. We can just do whatever we want with no consideration for the company Steven has been working his ass off just to keep afloat. Who cares if he’s in debt, or if he has to stay in the office until four in the morning? No, _Steven’s_ the bad friend, because _Steven_ has to run a company while we run around destroying everything we’ve built together, because _Steven’s not good enough—“_

Steven suddenly runs out of steam. Yeah, he probably should have breathed through that. He feels tired—not entirely from the alcohol. He wishes he could just make James and Cib magically understand why he’s pissed, but he knows they don’t care. They don’t care about this, and they don’t care about the company, and they’ll probably stop caring about him too. Great. Just dandy.

“You _have_ worked your ass off,” Jeremy says.

“ _Thank_ you!” Steven exclaims. He feels vindicated. Thank god for logical Jeremy.

“See, _you_ get it. I don’t know what their problem is.”

“People have too many feelings,” Jeremy says. “Like Parker. Always trying to make people talk about stuff, all the time.”

Steven snorts, rolling his head back against the wall so he can turn and give Jeremy a mean smile. Jeremy’s mean too. Jeremy understands Steven’s mean smiles. If nothing else, Steven’s glad he has Jeremy for that.

“Ugh, I hate when he does that,” Steven mutters, making a repulsed face at the thought of Parker nagging him.

“Like, who cares if I’m drunk?” Jeremy continues.

“Drinking’s great,” Steven agrees. He punctuates this with another sip of whiskey. It burns a little, but a little less than when they started. He feels comfortably easy like this, just spitting every hazy thought out, instead of swimming in anxiety and guilt over his ungrateful, terrible friends. Parker doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Alcohol is great.

“And who cares if Jenneth’s not attracted to me?” Jeremy says loudly, swinging his arms out into an overdramatic shrug. “I don’t.”

“Dude,” Steve says, pushing Jeremy’s arm out of his face, and putting a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, mostly because he’s dizzy and he needs something to steady him so he can see Jeremy’s face. “You’re totally—you—like—“

Steven tries to think of something to say that isn’t _weirdly hot_ , but that’s all his brain seems able to come up with. It’s not wrong. Jeremy’s kind of—he looks good in black, is the thing, and that’s all he wears, so. It makes sense. Objectively.

“You...have an attractive…aura?” Is what Steven finally says, immediately wincing at how flimsy it sounds.

Jeremy stares at him for what feels like a very long time. He’s still wearing his shades, and Steven is bizarrely thankful for it. For some reason, the thought of seeing Jeremy’s eyes, right now, makes his heart beat a little faster.

Jeremy finally says, “Thank you, Steven.”

He sounds…genuinely touched. Steven’s never heard him sound like that. He can feel his face heating up, though he’s not entirely sure why, and he has to make himself look away from Jeremy, because this is already too much god damn emotion for Steven to handle. He’s suddenly keenly aware of all the ways he and Jeremy are touching—shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed together. His hand is still on Jeremy’s shoulder.

Steven moves it away, suddenly self-conscious, and starts picking at the label on the whiskey bottle instead. There’s an awkward silence in the room. Heavy, in a familiar way—but not a familiar way with Jeremy.

Jeremy shifts slightly next to him, somehow pressing more of himself against Steven. Steven has no idea if that was intentional or not.

“You’re a good…business associate,” Jeremy says, oddly quiet—oddly vulnerable.

Steven doesn’t look at him. “Yeah. Uh. You too.”

There’s a weird energy in the room. He’s still pressed next to Jeremy, and he should move, but he feels frozen in place. Jeremy doesn’t move either. Steven feels unbearably nervous. He’s hit with the startling realization that he’s been here for hours. Alone with Jeremy. Just drinking and talking. It wasn’t even bad—it was…nice, actually.

Steven very desperately wants to run away, hyperaware of Jeremy’s presence next to him. Jeremy’s too drunk to drive him home, which means he’ll have to ask Parker, but somehow sitting in a car with Parker seems easier right now—less like Steven’s being very quietly split open.

“Well…” He says, finally looking at Jeremy, and whatever else he might have had to say dies in his throat.

There’s a weird sense of anticipation pressing down on him. He’s very close to Jeremy. It’s weird, and it isn’t.

Jeremy leans, cautiously, ever so slightly closer to Steven, and somehow, that’s enough to set off Steven’s fight or flight response.

He very abruptly pats Jeremy on the head, and says, voice shaky, “Okay. Good talking to you, dude!”

Before Jeremy can say anything in response, Steven flees the room, to track down Parker.

 

-

 

It’s not a thing. It’s not a thing at all and Steven doesn’t spend the entire day thinking about it, and avoiding Jeremy. Except he’s not even really doing that, because Jeremy doesn’t even text him, because that’s not something they do, because this is _not a thing._

Of course, there’s only so many places he can avoid Jeremy. Steven’s so panicked and fixated on the Jeremy thing-that-is-not-a-thing, that it doesn’t even occur to him that there was a reason why he was avoiding the office, lately.

Turns out the reason was waiting for him.

“Hey,” James says, sitting in the chair at Steven’s desk.

Steven freezes in the doorway. He considers just turning back around and leaving, but he’d have to call another Uber to bring him home, and he’d just be stuck waiting outside where James could follow him anyway, so he sighs and walks in.

James looks dejected, and Steven is spitefully pleased about that.

He sits in Cib’s seat and watches James expectantly.

“Well?”

“Look, I know you’re pissed about the Michael Jarvis thing—“

“Oh, do you? Do you really? What gave you that impression?”

James clenches his jaw. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “Can you please just let me explain?”

Steven crosses his arms. “Sure. Explain.”

“I didn’t know he’d come for the channel, okay? It wasn’t my fault.”

“Well, he’s _your_ agent, isn’t he?” Steven spits.

“God, you know what?” James spits back. “You don’t get to act high and mighty when I didn’t even _tell_ you about that, and I know Cib didn’t tell you, so you _clearly_ have some explaining to do, too.”

That hits Steve where it hurts, sharp and deep. The kind of hurt only a best friend can do. Right where every insecurity sits.

“ _Cib knew.”_ It’s not a question, just a lonely, crestfallen statement.

James hesitates, like he senses Steven’s hurt, which only makes Steven resent him more.

“I knew he wouldn’t act like this,” James says, calm and unapologetic.

“Oh! Sorry if I’m a little upset that my _best friends_ have been lying to me for months!”

“I wasn’t lying! I was going to tell you, and then it didn’t matter anymore.”

“Clearly, it matters, seeing as we can’t get into our god damn channel!” Steven shouts, waving his arms around to encompass the empty room around them.

“We can get it back!” James shouts back. He gives Steven the same pleading look Cib gave him over the shirt rack at H&M.

“We wouldn’t have to get it back if you’d just told me what was going on! You didn’t have to go behind my back and—“

 _“Yes, I did!”_ James stands, suddenly, looming over Steven. “You don’t care! You don’t care about what I want. you don’t care about what Cib wants. All you care about is this stupid company.”

“I _have to_ care, idiot, because while you’re running around conspiring with Michael Jarvis, and Cib’s out doing whatever the fuck _he_ does, someone has to make sure we get out of debt, and no one else seems to care except me!”

“We could have helped with that!” James sighs, long and tired. He falls back into Steven’s chair, looking as exhausted as Steven feels. “We’re a part of this company too. We’re here to help. All you had to do was ask us.”

Steven feels like he’s losing. He feels guilt creeping in, and something worse—something like worthlessness, and a terrifying, overwhelming fear that James will abandon him, and the sickening certainty that Steven wouldn’t even blame him for it. Not really.

He swallows it down, and fixes a cold stare on James.

“Clearly not,” Steven mutters, petulant, and he hates the way his voice cracks. “Clearly you want something else. That’s what Michael Jarvis was for, right?”

James looks at him for a very long time, like he’s trying to read him. Steven doesn’t want to be read. He wants James to go away.

Quietly, James says, “I just want you to appreciate me, dude.”

Steven wants to tell him he does. He wants to fix this. He wants James to _stay_ , but James hasn’t even said sorry. And Steven’s not going to do it first. He’s not sorry. He spied on James because James didn’t trust him. It’s James’ fault, and Steven doesn’t have to feel guilty about that. _He’s not sorry._

James must see something in Steven’s face, because he shakes his head, defeated.

“Whatever, dude,” He says, flatly.

He doesn’t look at Steven again, and Steven doesn’t watch him walk out of the office.

 

-

 

Steven is floundering. He’s lost his company, and he’s probably lost his best friends, and he can feel himself melting into a quiet breakdown. Frankly, he has had enough. He needs control of _something_ in his life, and that something is going to be the creepy demon that is Jeremy.

And because Steven is such a _good_ and _appreciative_ friend, he’s going to help Jeremy get over Jenneth. Entirely for altruistic reasons. Nothing to do with their moment, that wasn’t even a moment, because that would be ridiculous and stupid, and Steven is not ridiculous and stupid. And he doesn’t care about Jeremy. Except, to be a good and appreciative friend to him. Take that, James.

He brings Jeremy speed dating. Also, Parker—but only so he’ll stop making sad faces at Steven every time he shows up at their place and immediately ditches him to go hang out in Jeremy’s room.

“Why are we here?” Jeremy asks, unimpressed, when they finally arrive at the coffee shop.

 _Because_ _I’m a good and appreciative friend_ , Steven thinks but does not say.

“I think this is nice. Just three good pals, speed dating together,” Parker says, practically beaming at them. Idiot.

“ _Pals_?” Jeremy manages to sound even less impressed than before.

“Don’t ruin this,” Steven tells Parker, sternly.

“Steve,” Jeremy starts, but Steven cuts him off.

“Jeremy, there are plenty of sociopathic fish in the sea, and this could be where you finally find one. I’m sure someone here will find you—your—“

“Attractive aura,” Jeremy finishes for him.

He looks at Steven curiously. Steven can only tell because of the raised eyebrows behind the sunglasses. Steven can feel his useless face heating up.

“Yes, that,” Steven says. To make Jeremy stop looking at him like that, he starts pushing Jeremy towards the sign-up sheet, very deliberately not thinking about how his hand is on Jeremy’s back.

“You know speed dating involves talking to other people, right?” Jeremy asks him. There’s something like a teasing smirk on his face. Steven feels compelled to smirk back. He feels weird—giddy. This is so embarrassing.

“I think it’ll be fun,” Parker says, ruining the moment, and Steven’s life, a little bit.

Steven pulls his hand from Jeremy’s back.

 

-

 

Jeremy and Steven get put into rotation around the room, which means there’s no chance of them getting paired up. Steven doesn’t care about any of this, and he’s only doing this because of—for— _for_ Jeremy, so it doesn’t matter at all. If he maneuvers himself to be after Jeremy in the rotation so he can interrogate all of his dates about what they think of him, it’s only because he’s a good friend who is trying to find the perfect match for Jeremy.

The general consensus on Jeremy seems to be “creepy,” which is completely valid and true. Jeremy’s super creepy. Steven whole-heartedly agrees. Yuck. Horrific.

Except there’s also one girl that tells Steven, “I think he might, like, kidnap me and keep me in his basement or something. Like, total serial killer vibes. There’s no way I’d date him.” Then she giggles obnoxiously, and rudely, like she thinks Steven might find that funny.

Steven looks to the next table where Jeremy is sitting, currently making painstaking conversation with Parker, no doubt. Oh, great. Parker’s table is next.

Parker still looks delighted to be there, grinning ridiculously at Jeremy. Jeremy has seemed a bit uncomfortable around Parker lately, but he seems fine now—sort of half-smiling easily at Parker. Maybe he’s having fun.

Steven feels very specifically not jealous of Parker, and very specifically not happy to see Jeremy sort of smiling.

This girl doesn’t know what she’s talking about, though.

“What makes you think he’d date _you_? Most serial killers are known to have standards,” He says, sharply. _He_ kind of wants to murder her now. She’s quite annoying.

She scoffs at him, insulted. Steven ignores her. The bell’s about to ring, anyway.

Steven moves to Parker’s table. Parker grins at him. Jesus Christ, he just has to make this as horrible as possible.

“Hello, Steven, how are you?” Parker asks, like he’s at a job interview. He holds a hand out for Steven to shake. Steven blinks at it.

“Is that how you’ve been greeting people?” Steven asks, because _really? Really, Parker?_

Parker opens his mouth to answer, but Steven waves a hand at him, dismissively.

“Doesn’t matter. What were you and Jeremy talking about?”

Parker brightens a bit. “You know, it was actually really nice. I thought he was going to ignore me forever—” _understandable and sensible_ , Steven thinks “—but he seems to be doing better, lately, and he doesn’t just immediately leave the room when I try to talk to him anymore. I think he likes me when you’re around.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Did he seem like he was into anyone here?” Steven asks, trying not to sound like it’s too urgent, even though if Parker doesn’t tell him, Steven might punch him.

“Oh,” Parker says, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Well, we didn’t really talk about that, but I think he’s enjoying himself.”

He says it like he’s trying to be reassuring. _God,_ what a moron.

Steven pinches the bridge of his nose. “Once again, Parker, you’ve been no help at all.”

Parker shrugs, self-deprecating. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing for him.”

“Yeah, what are friends for,” Steven says, drily.

Parker blinks at him, then frowns, a little hurt, but the bell rings before Steven is forced to deal with whatever that is. Thank Christ.

 

-

 

“No dates,” Parker says, looking at his sheet. He’s got that miserable, pathetic look again that he’s been carrying around the last week.

Steven got no dates either, but he wasn’t really trying, and he also has enough self-respect not to immediately announce it.

“I got one,” Jeremy says.

Steven chokes on nothing, and whips his head around to look at Jeremy.

“You did?”

Jeremy nods, unreadable as ever.

“Good,” Steven says. His voice comes out a little high-pitched and hysterical. He clears his throat. “That’s…super.”

“You gonna stick around, then?” Parker asks. He gives Jeremy a glum look.

Jeremy’s sunglasses are off for once, and his eyes glance off Steven quickly. “Maybe.”

“Well, great,” Steven says, and honestly, his voice isn’t even that strained so, go him. He’s great at this.

Steven doesn’t look at Jeremy, and doesn’t ask who Jeremy’s date is, and doesn’t _think._ He turns to Parker. “Guess you’re driving me home.”

Parker doesn’t look nearly as cheerful as he had been when they arrived. In fact, none of them do. There’s a weird vibe. Steven is so sick of these weird god damn vibes popping up all the time.

“I’ll see you, then,” says Jeremy.

Steven doesn’t bother saying goodbye.

 

-

 

It takes Steven a while to notice—because he’s not remotely interested—but Parker is mad. Frankly, Steven is mad too, but he’s sick and fucking tired of everyone being mad and weird around him.

“What is it, Parker?” He sighs, trying not to sound too exasperated.

“Nothing,” Parker says.

 _Well, I tried_ , Steven thinks, and resolves himself to just letting Parker sulk, but apparently, Parker has other, more passive aggressive plans.

“I just didn’t know you guys were such good _friends_ , I guess.”

Steven has no idea what Parker’s getting at here, or why he cares at all, but he feels himself getting defensive, regardless.

“We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I don’t care about Jeremy. At all. Jeremy’s stupid,” Steven says, in an embarrassing rush. _Jesus Christ, get yourself together, Suptic._

“Why’d you bring him speed dating then?” Parker asks, like it’s some sort of accusation.

Steven crosses his arms. “God, can’t I just be nice without getting the third-degree? I don’t even _care_ about Jeremy.”

“Steven, you’re _not_ nice,” Parker says, which is the most brutal thing Parker has ever said to him. Steven’s almost impressed, except he knows Parker didn’t mean it to be as biting as it was. Parker continues, “You were being nice to Jeremy, though.”

Steven splutters a little. He’s losing his footing here, and he’s fucking terrified that Parker’s idiot brain is gonna get itself together enough for him to actually see something here.

“So—th—that doesn’t mean I like him, idiot,” Steven stutters out gracelessly. God damn it. He should die now. That’s what he needs to do.

“Yeah but—“ Parker cuts himself off, abruptly. He frowns in confusion.

“Parker?”

Parker doesn’t say anything.

“Stop. Parker, stop thinking,” Steve tries, a little desperate. Oh, god damn it. God fucking damn it.

“Wait,” Parker says, slowly. Jesus fucking Christ, Steven could really use the ground swallowing him whole, right about now.

Parker looks at Steven, trying to read him. Steven tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible so they can finally drop this, but Parker, the bastard, actually knows Steven pretty well. He can see the moment realization hits—Parker’s eyebrows shooting up in delighted surprise.

“Oh!”

“Shut up, Parker,” Steven says, acidly, but it’s too late.

“ _That’s_ why he talks to you,” Parker says, an amused smile slowly creeping on his face. “It’s not about business.”

“Parker, _shut up_ ,” Steven tries again, more demanding this time. Oh, god, he wants to die. He wants to be dead right now. He wishes he’d just apologized to James, so that he could be doing this with James and Cib instead of Parker. Ugh, this is awful.

Parker grins at him, as smug and teasing as Parker is capable of, with his weak, earnest, little soul. “Steve, _why_ would you bring him speed dating?”

Steven’s arms flail out in frustration. “I’m just trying to be appreciative, okay? Isn’t that what you people want?”

“What?” Parker frowns, still amused at Steven’s suffering. Steven hates him. So. God damn. Much.

“James ran off to Michael Jarvis because I don’t appreciate him enough. And he told _Cib_ and not me. I’m just trying to—“

“Wait, you talked to James?” Parker asks, something hopeful in his voice, which only makes Steven feel guilty and miserable.

Flatly, Steven says, “Yeah.”

“And?” Parker glances at him.

_And what?_

Steven doesn’t know what to say. His best friends can’t talk to him because he’s the worst friend in existence, and now they’re gone, and Jeremy’s off on a date with someone else, and Steven’s alone. Alone with Parker.

_And nothing._

Steve shrugs.

Parker gives him a pitying look which is disgusting.

“So you’re trying to keep Jeremy around by setting him up on dates with _other people_?” Parker asks, trying to follow Steven’s—very pragmatic—logic.

“I’m helping him get over Jenneth,” Steven insists.

“Over Jenneth and on to someone else?” Parker glances at him again, the hint of a smile on the corner of his lips. He says it so kindly that Steven can’t even be mad that he’s being forced to talk about his this.

Steven sighs, a little worn out. “Sure. Someone else.”

They fall into a not quite awkward silence. Parker glances at him intermittently, like he’s waiting for Steven to say something. Steven resolutely does not.

Eventually, Parker speaks, quiet like he’s afraid Steven might spook.

“He said I was nothing to him, y’know. Not his friend. Not even his acquaintance. That’s why he never talks to me about Jenneth.”

Steven glances at Parker, waiting to see where he’s going with this.

“He talks to _you_ , though,” Parker says. “You’re _business associates_.”

“Great. Business associates,” Steven says, evenly. He gives Parker a sardonic look.

Parker gives him a small, encouraging smile in return. “I think it means more than he says it means.”

That’s—Steven can’t think about that, right now. He turns to the window, away from Parker’s knowing gaze.

“He seems happier when you’re around, too,” Parker adds, gently.

Parker is a fool, and Steven doesn’t believe a word coming out of his weird, gross mouth, but it’s still a comfort. A miniscule comfort, but not completely worthless. That pretty much sums up Parker.

And seeing as Steven is all about being a good and appreciative friend these days he quietly, and reluctantly, says, “You’re a good friend, Parker.”

Parker beams his gross alien smile at Steven. Ugh. He’s already ruined it.

“Thanks, Steve.”

 

-

 

Steven doesn’t see Jeremy for a few days—doesn’t see anyone, really. Maybe he’s wallowing a little. Sure, there’s probably something worse than being the worst friend in the world, and having your company taken hostage by a psychotic Hollywood agent, and having an unrequited crush on your creepy murder friend. Oh, wait, no. There isn’t. Steve’s life fucking sucks.

He spends half the day in bed typing and deleting a text to Jeremy asking about his date. He attempts a text to James and Cib too, but he doesn’t even know what he could possibly say.

They don’t want to talk to him. They might never want to talk to him again, a thought which sends a spike of terrible panic into him.

Oh, god. What if they never talk to him again? What if this is it? What if he loses his company and he loses his friends and all he has left in this world are his dogs, and his dumb crush on Jeremy.

He didn’t even get to tell them about his dumb crush on Jeremy. He didn’t even get to hear Cib’s sage yet completely nonsensical advice, or James laughing in his face because this is actually super embarrassing, and probably dangerous on some level Steven hasn’t even considered.

For one terrifying moment Steven remembers his shitty speech at the Christmas party. Remembers with startling clarity the look on James and Cib’s faces as he said _I don’t think there’s a person in this room whose shared story is going to end with “we just stopped talking.”_

Steve sighs, burrowing himself further under the covers.

 

-

 

He wakes up a while later to the sound of his phone buzzing on the bedside table. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for—feels groggy enough that he doesn’t think before opening the message, and suddenly he’s staring at a text from Jeremy.

_I have something for you. Come over._

Steven stares at it for a good five minutes, mind racing through all the good, and bad, and worse, and _oh, god, kill me now_ possibilities of what that text could mean. Maybe Jeremy found out about his crush. Maybe Parker blabbed and now Jeremy’s going to murder him. At least it would put him out of his misery.

Steven considers just going back to sleep, but he knows if he tried he’d just be thinking about the stupid text for hours.

He sighs, resigned.

 _Be there in an hour,_ he sends back.

Then: _How was the date?_

He throws the phone across the room, and gets ready so he doesn’t have to think about any response Jeremy might send. Or lack of response.

He’s fully content to leave his phone here for the foreseeable future, but he needs it to order an Uber.

Jeremy says, _See you then._

Well, that’s just god damn terrific. Great. Now, he’ll have to obsess over this forever.

Yeah, that’s pretty much what he should expect from life by now.

 

-

 

Parker answers the door, and smiles at Steven, a far cry from the melancholy expression Steven was getting used to seeing from him.

“Hey, man! What’s up?” Parker asks, cheerfully.

Steven tries not to look too disappointed with himself and his life, because then Parker will ask, and then they’ll have to have _another_ stupid talk about Jeremy. One heart to heart with Parker is more than enough.

“Jeremy said he has something for me…” Steven trails off, unsure.

Parker raises his eyebrows, surprised, then smiles knowingly at Steven. Steven is not a man of violence but he would have zero problems with slapping Parker across the face, right now.

“Yeah, come on in.” Parker opens the door for him, then bumps Steven’s shoulder as he walks in.

“Don’t do that,” Steven admonishes him.

At least, Parker has the decency to look guilty. “Yeah, I won’t do that.”

When Steven turns around to face the couch again, Jeremy is standing there, stoically watching him and Parker.

“God, that’s fucking creepy,” Steven mutters, and hates that he’s kind of fond of it too.

“Here,” Jeremy says, without preamble, and shoves a manila folder into Steven’s hands.

“What’s this,” Steven asks as he flicks through it—realises just as Jeremy speaks.

“It’s everything you need to take down Michael Jarvis.”

Steven looks at him, astonished. He knows he must look like an idiot, right now, but he’s—god, he’s so thankful. He remembers how he felt, when Jeremy had shown up to the office, Steven’s glasses in hand. A simple kindness he never had to do—never bothered explaining.

The file is thick, and even from a quick skim, Steven can tell the information is thorough.

“When did you even—why—” Steven sputters. He can practically _feel_ Parker’s annoying smile behind him.

Jeremy shrugs, awkwardly. And then, in a move even more baffling than doing all this for Steven, he says, “Seemed like it was bothering you.”

Steven smiles at him, a little. There’s not really anything else he can do to that.

“Alright,” He says, softly. Looks back down at the file just to stop grinning at Jeremy like a gooey idiot. “So when do we do this?”

“Well, it’s a five-person job,” Jeremy says.

Steven snaps back to look at him.

“Don’t you think?” Jeremy asks.

Steven would hug him if he were a hugger. Instead, he has to settle for giving Jeremy a vulnerable look, and hoping Jeremy gets it. He thinks Jeremy does. Steven thinks Jeremy’s a little like him, sometimes.

 

-

 

Steven doesn’t text Cib and James—shows up at their houses without warning, instead.

Cib’s on board almost immediately, mostly because as soon as he started hesitating, Steven had said, “Hurry up, idiot, we still need to get James.” Cib grins at him, relieved and joyful, as he follows Steven to the car. Steven ruffles his hair a little. God, he missed Cib.

James is little more awkward. Cib comes with Steven to the door, and Steven can’t even begin to express how grateful he is for that.

James looks Steven right in the eyes, and asks, “Are you sure you want me there, seeing as this is my all my fault, and everything.”

“Yaw, dude,” Cib says, vape smoke drifting easily from his mouth. “Can’t win the scheme, without the dream team, and the mystery machine, ya know what I mean?”

James is still looking at Steven, and Steven doesn’t say anything because he’s afraid that anything he might say will make James say no. But he gives James an apologetic smile, all the same.

James sighs, looking apologetic too, and follows them to the car.

 

-

 

It turns out Michael Jarvis isn’t actually that hard to defeat. They’re just idiots. Well—except Jeremy.

Steven takes the lead, at first, but even tied up to a chair Michael Jarvis has a terrifying, sinister energy that spooks Steven. And maybe he’s still not entirely over their last meeting. Whatever. He’s _not_ a little bitch, okay?

Michael Jarvis snorts at Steven—stuttering and unsure.

“You really picked these dipshits over me?” Michael spits at James, smile curling into a volatile snarl.

“Yes,” James says, steady and sure. It makes Steven’s heart sing. God he’s such fucking idiot. He missed James so much.

“I could have made you a star. Do you really think you can be happy, doing your little shows, for your little _youtube_ channel? Do you really think this will be _enough?_ ” Michael whispers, like the literal devil on James’ shoulder.

Steven watches James. James meets his eyes. Steven doesn’t know what he’s trying to tell him. Doesn’t know if anything he tells James can ever be enough—can ever truly satisfy him enough to make him stay. Steven feels a little hopeless, but when James turns back to Michael, he says, “Whatever, dude,” and punches him in the face.

It takes a little more blackmailing to get Michael to give them the channel back, and swear to leave them alone forever, but as a tag team James and Jeremy are pretty intimidating, and Jeremy was almost inappropriately thorough getting information on Michael’s daughter. God, they really need to stop involved kids in their shenanigans.

Michael finally caves, and Steven feels elated and free for the first time in months. Cib grins at him and wraps him in an unwanted hug before, moving on to James. Steven glances at Parker and Jeremy as they leave Michael Jarvis’ house. Parker smiles kindly at him, and Steven thinks it wasn’t that bad, sort of hanging out with him these past two weeks. Jeremy doesn’t smile, but he seems satisfied, and nods to Steven, before pulling Parker away so Steven, Cib, and James can have a moment.

When Steven turns back around Cib is relaying the events of the day in enthusiastic and completely inaccurate detail, while James grins back at him.

They finally stop and notice him, and the air turns awkward.

Well, alright. So, they’re not past this.

James watches Steven expectantly.

“Thanks for helping us,” Steven says.

“Yeah, dude, you were awesome,” adds Cib, a hint of desperation in his voice, like if he acts like nothing’s wrong, it won’t be.

“Yeah, well. My problem to fix, right?” James says, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

He keeps looking at Steven. Steven knows what James wants to hear, but he’s not going to say it. He can’t. He—Jesus, how does James _still_ not get this?

Steven doesn’t want to fight, though, so he says, “Now, it’s fixed.”

James shakes his head, the same frustrated way he had done when he’d abandoned Steve at the office.

Cib looks back and forth between them, hopelessly. “Guys,” He pleads.

“Nothing’s really changed, has it?” James says, but he’s asking Steven.

“If that’s what you think,” Steven says, stubbornly.

James sighs. “Yeah,” He mutters, resigned, and walks back to the car.

Steven and Cib watch him go in silence. Cib looks to Steven—almost scared—as if he expects Steven to have a magical fix for this that’ll undo all the stupid things Steven and James have and haven’t said to each other.

Steven shrugs and walks back to the car.

 

-

 

The drive back is tense, but Jeremy, mercifully, drops James off first.

Once, James is gone, Cib turns to Steven and stares at him for a while, as if imploring him to look back. “Steve,” He says, weakly.

Steven can see Jeremy’s eyes flit quickly to the rearview mirror to look at them, then away again. He can’t see Parker’s eyes, but he can feel the awkward concern radiating off him.

Steven has nothing to say to Cib—or at least nothing Cib wants to hear—so nobody says anything. Cib leaves the car, forlorn, head hanging, dramatically.

Jeremy’s halfway to Steven’s place when Steven finally says, “Hey, can I go back with you guys?”

His voice sounds gloomy, and small. He feels small. A small, little man, with a worthless company, and friends who hate him.

Without missing a beat, Jeremy says, “Sure.” Like it’s nothing.

For the hundredth time today, Steven is very, very grateful that he has Jeremy around.

 

-

 

Parker gives Steven’s shoulder a squeeze as they walk inside the house—which Steven does not want—but Parker is also the only person in Steven’s life with any emotional intelligence, which means, he leaves Steven alone with Jeremy immediately after, so Steven’s can’t even be annoyed about it.

Steven flops on the couch. Doesn’t really bother asking Jeremy if he wants help getting pillows and blankets for him. It doesn’t matter, either way, because Jeremy doesn’t wander off to be a good host, dropping down next to Steven instead.

They sit like that for a while—silence not exactly pleasant, but not awkward. Jeremy’s arm is stretched out on the back of the couch. If Steven leans his head back, he can rest against it. He doesn’t do that, but he fixates on the thought for a while.

“You’re…not a bad friend, Steven,” Jeremy eventually says.

“The reviews say otherwise,” Steven mutters.

“I think you’re a good friend,” says Jeremy.

Steven looks at him, curiously. “Are we friends?”

Jeremy does the stare. It’s not as effective as it used to be. Steven’s kind of used to it, now.

Jeremy doesn’t say anything but he nods, resolutely.

Steven considers that, carefully. “Parker said you don’t do that.”

Jeremy gets a little pink like he’s embarrassed to be caught out like that—caring about Steven a little more than he normally would.

Jeremy says, “Parker was being…”

“Yeah,” Steven agrees. He can relate.

But still. He remembers Parker’s reassuring smile in the car, on the way back from speed dating, and as much of a god damn nuisance as Parker has been the last couple of weeks, he’s also…been there. Is still there, despite it all. Has been for years. It’s really kind of a miracle for anyone to stick around this long, let alone someone as weak-willed as Parker.

Steve’s kind of in a weird mood, that he’s very much going to deny, and forget the second he’s over it, but he’s going with it for now, so he says, “He’s probably not the worst person in the world.”

Jeremy raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“I mean, I’ve never seen proof that there’s anybody worse, but…” He shrugs. “He’s good to talk to.”

He glances at Jeremy, to see if he gets it.

Jeremy watches him a beat, before maneuvering himself into a slightly more comfortable position on the couch. It pushes his arm against the back of Steven’s shoulders. Steven waits, and doesn’t think about it.

“I might have been a bit…defensive…about Jenneth.”

Steven nods in understanding. He thinks about Jeremy’s date he still knows nothing about. Thinks about Parker in the car, saying _he seems happier when you’re around, too._

If he glances at Jeremy from this side angle, Steven can sort of see Jeremy’s dark eyes, staring calmly ahead of him.

“Are you, uh, over that…now…y’know…since your date?” Steven boldly asks. He can feel his heartrate start to speed up, the usual anxiety that follows any sort of emotional vulnerability taking over. God, Parker better knows what he’s talking about, this is already the worst thing Steven has ever done.

He watches Jeremy, and he can sense Jeremy sensing being watched. Steven’s ready to throw in the towel and just fucking run, leave LA forever. All those nice, and generous thoughts aside, Steven won’t survive if his only friend left is _Parker._ And he’s not sure he can take any more rejection tonight, even if it isn’t really rejection, because Steven isn’t really making a move. Just asking a seemingly innocuous question.

Jeremy turns his head to look at Steven, and Steven’s view of his eyes is suddenly gone.

“Yes,” Jeremy says—softly, but with conviction. “Not, uh, because of the date, though.”

Steve flushes a little. There’s an excited energy in him now, but he’s feeling, all of a sudden, very shy.

“That’s good,” Steven says, awkwardly, because his feelings and his brain are _not friends._

At least Jeremy’s slightly more of a robot than Steven, and therefore, equally at a loss. Look at these two idiots, sitting around, not saying anything of value. No wonder Steven’s life is such a disaster.

Someone out there is either looking out for him, or trying to destroy him, because they’re interrupted out of their weird moment, by the sound of something clattering in the kitchen.

“Sorry!” Parker calls out.

Steven rolls his eyes. Being irritated with Parker is enough of a distraction, that he only realizes too late that Jeremy has pulled his arm away and is moving off the couch.

“You should get some sleep, Steven,” Jeremy says “Big day tomorrow.” Which doesn’t make any sense, but Steven’s kind of used to all the mysterious things Jeremy says. There’s something in Jeremy’s voice that sounds almost…resolved. Steven doesn’t feel resolved, but he doesn’t really have it in him to argue. It’s been a long, weird day.

Jeremy gives Steven one final nod, before saying, “Goodnight.”

He walks away.

“Didn’t even bring me a pillow,” Steven mutters to himself, as he pulls up off the couch to go order Parker to do it.

 

-

 

Steven feels groggy when he wakes up. He has the ghost of a headache, like he’s hungover or something, which is weird because he doesn’t remember getting drunk before he fell asleep on Parker and Jeremy’s couch.

That’s the other weird thing, because he’s definitely no longer on their couch.

Steven opens on eye, cautiously. He’s on a fucking lawn chair. Outside. On a floating dock. In the middle of a lake.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and when Steven turns he sees James, on a similar chair, staring out into the lake.

“What the fuck?” Steven asks.

“Dude. I told you. Aliens? They got a thing for me,” Another voice says. Steven turns to the other side and sees Cib, also in a lawn chair, looking a little less broody than James.

“We’re still on Earth, idiot,” James says, exasperated, like they’ve been having this discussion for a while.

“Then where are all the people, idiot?” Cib shoots back, like that’s some sort of _gotcha_ James can’t refute.

“Why the fuck are we here?” Steven asks, neither of them in particular, because they are both equally useless.

“I don’t know, maybe check the ransom note on your shirt,” James says, annoyed.

Steven looks down. There is indeed a note pinned to his shirt. He pulls it off and reads.

 _You have until sundown to_ —and then curving down the side of the page— _be friends again._

Then, in brackets next to it: _Sorry, I ran out of space._

And finally: _Jeremy x_

Steven feels his lips quirk at the _x_. But also, this is real stupid and Steven kind of hates Jeremy, right now.

“Is he going to kill us at sundown?” He asks, drily. Jeremy may have been nice lately, but Steven can’t pretend to understand what goes on in that man’s psyche. He wouldn’t put it past him.

“Probably,” James says.

Cib leans in to whisper to them, like he’s being sneaky. “Not if we kill him first.”

“Jesus,” Steven says, without much heat behind it. More resigned to his fate than anything else.

“I’m not against it,” James says, idly.

Steven crumples the note. He considers throwing it in the lake, but instead, he shoves the paper ball into his pocket. He wants to keep the _x,_ because, apparently, he’s a 12 year old girl, now. Stupid Jeremy.

 

-

 

It’s takes an impressive 15 minutes for James and Steven to start yelling at each other. It’s mostly just a rehash of all the things they’ve yelled before. Neither of them apologize, and they get nowhere. Great fucking idea, Jeremy.

They take a break after a while to watch Cib trying to row them back to shore, with his arms, not bothering to roll up his sleeves, because _why would he do that?_

“I’m pretty sure it’s a static dock, dude,” James says.

“Yeah, watch out for static shock, dude,” Steven adds, just to be a little shit.

Cib points to James, “Correct,” then Steven, “Correctomundo.”

“Dude, I didn’t know you knew Spanish.” James sounds impressed. Steven has no idea if he’s being sincere or not. It can go either way with James, sometimes.

“Voulez-vou coo shave a cat, dude,” Cib says, with a grin.

“That’s actually a lot more of any language than I expected you to know. Including English,” Steven tells him, with a sardonic smile.

Cib swings his arms out proudly. “What can I say, dude, I’m a Jack of one trade, and a cat of eight lives.”

“Probably down to seven at this points,” Steven says.

Next to him James nods in agreement. “He’s totally down to seven.”

Their eyes meet, and James mirrors Steven’s amused smile. Steven doesn’t feel the weight of James’ disappointment suffocating him. Maybe they will get off this dock.

“Seventh Heaven,” Cib says with a shrug, and goes back to rowing.

 

-

 

“Why does Jeremy even care about this?” James asks, after a while, fiddling with the string of his hoody.

Steven’s staring at a family of ducks swimming nearby. The little baby runt keeps falling behind, bad at swimming even though that’s what he was made for. _Same,_ thinks Steven.

James is still trying to get his attention. “Steve? Steve? Steve? Steve?”

“How should I know?” Steven says, hoping James doesn’t know _why_ he should know.

“Aren’t you guys, like, BFFs now?” James asks. Steven doesn’t miss the hint of bitterness in his voice. He would make a similar biting comment about James and Michael Jarvis, but he kind of wants to get off this dock, today. And his heart’s not really in it anymore. James already chose Steven, even if he also left Steven, right after.

He doesn’t owe James an explanation, but Steven still hasn’t talked about it with literally anyone other than Parker, so.

“It’s not really like that,” He says.

Cib—who either knows Steven very, very well, or is simply a telepath—immediately says, “Ooh, Stevie’s got a sweetie.”

Steven grimaces. Cib leans in and makes kissy noises at him, like a child.

Steven pushes him away. “Don’t call me Stevie.”

Cib kisses the palm of his hand, quickly, before Steven can pull it back. Steven’s actually a little embarrassed he fell for that.

“Ew,” He says.

“Really?” James finally asks, not quite with disbelief. He sounds pleasantly curious, though. Steven can work with that.

Steven also kind of missed him, a lot, so he very honestly tells him, “Uh, yeah. It’s sort of a thing, actually.”

“Huh.”

Steven finally has the courage to look at him. James looks pensive. Steven wonders what he’s thinking about. There’s a hint of something on his face, but when he finally looks at Steven there’s no judgment there. Only understanding. More than Steven deserves, probably.

“Been a long two weeks,” James notes, meeting Steven’s eyes.

Steven sees his own stubborn misery reflected back.

“Yeah,” He agrees.

 

-

 

The second screaming match is equally as unproductive as the first, and also, derailed when James shouts, “God, I’m so fucking hungry. 

Cib lights up like he’s been waiting to hear this, and goes into a 32 step—detailed and illogical—fishing plan. At step 27 it finally occurs, to Steven that Jeremy wouldn’t leave him here without food. Jeremy maybe likes him now. He’s thoughtful.

Which is how they find the cooler hidden under Cib’s lawn chair.

“You’ve been hiding the food this _entire time?_ ” James says, absolutely livid.

Steven is equally livid, but he doesn’t yell at Cib, because he’s getting off this dock one way or another, and Cib is the only ally he has in the bag here.

Cib says, “Now, if you go back to step sixteen of the fishing plan, you’ll find—“

“ _Why_ have you been hiding all the food?” James whines. He sounds like he might cry with frustration. Ugh, god, if he cries Steven’s just going jump in the lake and drown.

“So we could fish!” Cib snaps back.

“Cib!”

“Jame-othy!”

“Good god,” Steven mutters.

“I was just _trying_ to make it like it used to be. Three boys…fishing,” Cib says.

That shuts them all up. James and Steven sigh in unison. Cib watches them, face revealing all the hurt he’s been bottling up this whole time. His face is agonizing. Steven has to look at his shoes, and clear his throat.

Steven feels some sort of responsibility here, as the leader, and also—in all ways but legal—as Cib’s primary guardian.

“We, uh, we really made this suck for you, huh?”

“You made me the piggy,” Cib says, glumly.

“In the middle?” Steven asks, though he doesn’t really need the clarification.

Cib nods, solemnly.

They fall into silence.

Then James says, “Cib, I’m sorry, man.”

Steven really, honestly, _truly_ does not know why he’s such a piece of shit. He wishes he wasn’t. He really wishes he could be _not_ this way. But he can’t. And for whatever reason, it’s this that sets Steven right off.

“Are. You. _Kidding_ me?”

James looks at him confused.

“You’re sorry? Just like that you’re _sorry?”_

“Steve,” Cib says, half a warning, and half a plea. But Steven is hungry, and tired, and he’s barely talked to his best friends for weeks, and none of this would even be happening if James could just—

“ _Where_ has that been the last two weeks?” Steven shouts.

James looks furious. “Dude, seriously?”

“Well, you still haven’t said it,” Steven says, waving his arms out into the empty air, like the perfect demonstration of James’ apologies, of which there are _none._

“Try one of the 40 texts you deleted!” James shouts. “Or the week you spent avoiding me!”

“If you meant it, you should have tried harder,” Steven snaps.

“Dude, what the _fuck,”_ James snaps back.

Steven’s about to keep going, but then Cib lets out a high-pitched scream-like sound, that will haunt Steven’s nightmares, probably forever. It goes on for about a minute before Cib finally stops, face purple, and out of breath.

Steven has no idea what the fuck that was, but he’s not in the mood to talk anymore, and neither is James if the seething look on his face is anything to go by.

They eat in silence.

 

-

 

The sun is setting in the distance—sky bleeding from blues to pinks to purples. Steve watches it from the lawn chair. It’s kind of beautiful. He wishes he had his camera, so it wouldn’t be completely wasted on his useless eyes.

Steven says, “I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“I know that,” James tells him, calmly. “But you don’t even try.”

Steven turns from the sky to look at James.

James looks at him seriously. _Glisten, Steve. This is important._

“You still have to try,” James says.

Steven sighs, looking back at the horizon. It throws him sometimes that James an Cib still try even though Steven is clearly a few emotions shy of being a real person. It’s unbearably sweet of them.

Steven swallows his pride. “What can I do…to make this enough for you?”

James smiles at him, small and accepting. “Just let us in, dude. It doesn’t have to be just _you_ all the time.”

Steven nods. Yeah. He can probably do that.

“Don’t…hide things, anymore,” Steven tells them, because he’s actually really fucking hurt about that.

“Done,” James says.

“And if you want to leave the company, don’t just…” Steven trails off. There’s still the heavy weight of anxiety in his chest at the thought of them leaving him, but that’s a Steven problem, and James probably doesn’t deserve to be punished for it. That’s, like, growth or something.

“Just let me try talk you out of it, first,” Steven finishes.

“We’re not going anywhere, dude,” Cib says, voice earnest. It’s the first thing he’s said in a while. Steven and James both turn to look at him.

“No boat,” Cib says, but he gives Steven a reassuring smile, so Steven knows Cib’s not just talking out his ass.

Relief washes over Steven—or, drips lightly. Anxiety is anxiety.

“I’m sorry about Michael Jarvis, man,” James says.

Steven turns to James, taking in the apologetic look on his face.

“I really do appreciate you, James,” Steven admits, bashfully. “You’re my best friend, dude.”

James smiles at him, and Steven smiles back, feeling something that’s been rattling inside him all these months finally settle into place.

Steven turns to Cib. “You, too, bud. Sorry about the divorced parents thing.”

Cib grins at him, easy—water off a duck’s back.

Steven feels...pleased. God, that feels like a new one. Weird.

James looks out into the lake and says, “Is that Jeremy?” He holds his hand above his eyes to stare into the horizon.

Steven smiles to himself a little. “Jesus, about time,” He says, evenly.

 

-

 

Jeremy acts like Jeremy when he shows up, which means he stares at them stoically, for ten yards until the boat reaches the dock, and then he doesn’t apologize for kidnapping them. Standard Jeremy. Ol’ reliable.

“All good?” Jeremy asks them, but he looks at Steven.

“Chloroforming us was a bit much,” Steven tells him, impassively.

The corners of Jeremy’s lips curl upwards. God, he probably has weird kinks. This is weird. Steven’s an idiot and he’s likely going to die.

But he lets the beginnings of a smile take over his face too, because he’s happy and Jeremy gave him his best friends back, so he’s earned one.

“You guys flirt weird,” James says as he climbs onto the boat.

Steven can feel himself turning red. His only saving grace, is that Jeremy seems to be doing the same. _Ha ha, you like me_ , Steven thinks, smugly.

Cib—half in the boat and half still on the dock—stops and points a finger at Jeremy. “Be nice to our long-boy, Jeremy. We know where you live.”

“I know where _you_ live,” Jeremy responds, which is a far more frightening threat than Cib’s.

Cib, who is above all a creature of hubris, leans in closer to him and whispers, “Not if I kill you first.”

Wow, he’s really fixated on that. Steven should probably do something.

“Come on! I’m hungry!” James groans.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steven says, waving a hand at him. He fits in one final stupid smile to Jeremy, before climbing on the boat. God, he’s lame, now.

 

-

 

They decide to have a little boys sleepover, because they’re reunited, and Steven is happy, and because Jeremy already drove them back to his and Parker’s place, and he didn’t kidnap any of them with their phones or wallets, so none of them can call an Uber and leave. But not in a creepy way. Mostly.

Parker grins at them when they get back, joyful and goofy, and he looks at Steven like he’s grateful to him for some reason, which Steven is not going to question. He’ll take validation where he can get it.

They all spend two hours fighting over pizza toppings—twice almost resulting in a fistfight—but it’s nice. Steven feels at home again. At peace. He is genuinely, really fucking happy.

Also, Jeremy keeps _looking_ at him. Steven keeps looking back. It’s so dumb. Steven keeps going back and forth on whether he finds it gross, or great. Jeremy’s the probable murderer here so, really, it’s more embarrassing for him.

When the pizza gets there, Jeremy sneaks away to the kitchen to get plates that likely nobody will use, so Steven follows him.

“Hey,” Steven says, stopping him in the hallway, hidden away from the rest of them.

“Hey,” Jeremy replies. His sunglasses are off. Steven can finally see his eyes. He looks softer like this. Steven is simultaneously weirded out and charmed by it.

They both stand there like idiots, not saying anything. However, Steven is trying to be, like, a person now, or something, so he bites the bullet.

“Thanks,” He says, waving vaguely to James and Cib’s direction. He can faintly hear them, still arguing about the pizzas that are already here.

Jeremy nods.

“Seemed like it was bothering you,” He says, the same matter of fact way he said it yesterday. And just like yesterday, Steven feels an overwhelming surge of affection for him.

“Parker also, uh, helped,” Jeremy adds. “You were right. He’s…good to talk to.”

Steven nods. He feels a hopeful anticipation. He’s practically giddy. Hey, flirting is fun, it turns out.

“What did you guys talk about?” Steven asks.

“Business associates,” says Jeremy.

They fall into another sheepish silence. There’s a sarcastic little demon inside Steven, rolling his eyes, right now. Christ, for two people who don’t care about feelings, they should be a lot better at this.

Steven thinks, _fuck it._

“Yeah. So uh,” He mumbles. And then he leans down and quickly kisses Jeremy.

It’s not much of a kiss. More of a peck. Steven barely felt Jeremy’s beard on his face.

Jeremy blinks at him, surprised. For one fleeting second, Steven is terrified that he’s been reading this wrong, and now Jeremy’s going to murder him, or worse—reject him. But Jeremy takes a steadying breath, and then he wraps a hand on the back of Steven’s neck, and pulls him down for another kiss.

This one’s better. Steven likes this one. It’s soft, and real, and nice. Steven can taste Jeremy, and he really, embarrassingly likes that.

Steven awkwardly puts a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder gripping his t-shirt, and Jeremy uses the movement to pull him a little closer, deepening the kiss. Steven’s brain very enthusiastically screams, _hell yeah!_

“Hey!” Someone barks at them.

They pull away from each other to see Cib standing in the hallway. “It’s pizza time little robots, kissing time is for later!” He snaps, sternly, before wandering back to the rest of group.

Steven looks back down at Jeremy. His hand’s still gripping Jeremy’s shirt on his shoulder. Jeremy’s hand is still around his neck. It’s nice. They _should_ do this later.

Steven nods to Jeremy, a silent agreement.

Jeremy smiles, a little awkwardly—unpracticed—and nods back.

Well, alright, then. Kissing nights with Jeremy.

Steven grins, and they go get some pizza.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If this converted you to Steven/Jeremy, or if you were already there, please scream with me in the comments. I'm very lonely.
> 
> I'm also on the tumble: raylangivins.tumblr.com


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